


every minute of every hour

by Skyson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Perhaps," The Director mused slowly in Coulson's direction, "you're getting too old for the demands of the job?"</p><p>"Old?!" Coulson repeated, affronted. The Director lifted his hands, backtracking,</p><p>"I'm only saying perhaps something a little slower paced? Your partner is ten years younger than you, which may not seem like much but when you're our age..."</p><p>"I can keep up." Coulson argued firmly. May, again, looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. The Director was nodding now, liking where this conversation had gone and agreeing with May's idea.</p><p>"I've read your file, I've heard the stories. Maybe she's right, Coulson." Decided, he sat back down behind his desk, smoothing his tie straight. "You need a break. Two weeks. Mandatory."</p>
            </blockquote>





	every minute of every hour

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title and story loosely inspired by song "Good Grief" by Bastille.

* * *

 

"I don't care who you were - right now you're a liability." The Director scolded Coulson. "You are an agent under my command, and unless you have a reasonable grievance, you will listen to me."

"I have a reasonable grievance," Coulson piped up, and May closed her eyes for a second, resisting the urge to cover her face with her hand.

"Agent May," The Director decided to drag her into the conversation as well, "Do you consider Agent Coulson's disagreement with my command to be justifiable?"

She felt Coulson's eyes on her, but she kept her gaze toward their boss. One of them had to stay off his shit list, and it looked like it would have to be her.

"No, Sir." She answered, and Coulson blurted,

"May!"

"He's too close." May continued, ignoring him. The Director narrowed his eyes.

"Do you suggest he be removed from the operation entirely?" He asked with some suspicion. Coulson shifted his feet, only May knowing it to be an anxious movement of his.

"No, Sir," May furrowed her brow as she shook her head, "but I believe... I believe he needs a break."

"A break?!" Coulson and The Director both exclaimed, at various levels of surprise - Coulson more so than The Director.

"He isn't usually like this," May explained further, shifting her gaze sideways toward Coulson for a few moments. He was looking at her like she had ratted him out of stealing from the cookie jar. "He's fried. I haven't seen him take a break in at least two years."

"Perhaps," The Director mused slowly in Coulson's direction, "you're getting too old for the demands of the job?"

"Old?!" Coulson repeated, affronted. The Director lifted his hands, backtracking,

"I'm only saying perhaps something a little slower paced? Your partner is ten years younger than you, which may not seem like much but when you're our age..."

"I can keep up." Coulson argued firmly. May, again, looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. The Director was nodding now, liking where this conversation had gone and agreeing with May's idea.

"I've read your file, I've heard the stories. Maybe she's right, Coulson." Decided, he sat back down behind his desk, smoothing his tie straight. "You need a break. Two weeks. Mandatory."

" _Two weeks_?" Coulson exclaimed. The Director raised his eyebrow up at Coulson, his expression not yielding. Coulson opened his mouth, and The Director held his hand across the top of the desk, palm up.

"If you're going to argue with me, I'll take your lanyard now, and you can have it back in two weeks." He told him, and Coulson blinked. " _After_ I've deemed you _rested enough_ for your return." The Director added, with a wry look toward May. She pressed her lips together, and looked away from the both of them.

Taking a measured breath in and releasing it, Coulson pulled his lanyard from his trouser pocket and tossed it into The Director's hand.

"I'll allow you to keep your weapon, considering you're dangerous connection with Quake." The Director replied, a bit mockingly, tucking the lanyard inside of the top drawer of the desk. Coulson resisted the urge to correct him on Daisy's name.

May opened her mouth to say something to him, but he brushed passed her, too angry to say anything that would be appropriate in front of their boss.

"Keep an eye on him?" He heard The Director sigh as he walked out of the office. It sounded almost like a request, not an order, but he heard May accept it anyway. Coulson scowled.

**~~~~**

Three days into his imposed vacation, he was sitting in a dimly lit bar, bobbing his head a little as he listened to a decent cover of Journey. Off the job or not, he had tucked himself in the far corner at the counter, offering himself privacy and a view of the rest of the room. The establishment wasn't too busy, and the bartender had been nice enough to leave Coulson the whole bottle of bourbon he had ordered a couple glasses of previously.

A woman slid into the barstool next to him, singing along quietly as she gestured with nimble fingers toward the bartender.

" _It won't be long, yeah, til you're alone, when your lover, she hasn't come home_..." Coulson glanced at her, didn't recognize her, and sighed quietly. "Hiya, can I get a Guinness?" She requested when the bartender came over. He nodded, giving her an appraising smile, and went to fetch it. She must have been pretty, but Coulson hadn't looked long enough to judge.

"Did he send you to check up on me," Coulson asked her without really caring, "or are you looking for a pick-up? Because I'm not really in the mood to talk about either."

"I have a question for ya," She had a very strong northern accent. Maybe Minnesota, or North Dakota...possibly Canadian. He didn't really care. "Have you been drinking that whole bottle yourself?" She gestured toward the half-empty bottle, her tone innocently curious. Coulson narrowed his eyes as he focused toward her more closely. She was pretty. More make-up than he personally liked, but well put together. She also didn't _look_ like she was searching for a one-night stand, and she didn't give the aura that he could usually find in SHIELD agents.

"I have. Would you like some?" He eventually answered her, deciding to be a little more respectful toward her, at least. Maybe she was just lonely. He could relate to that.

She nodded and he held up his glass and pointed toward her, and the bartender grabbed a clean tumbler to set in front of her along with her requested pint.

"Let me know if you need anything else," he told them, adding a few cubes of steel ice into her empty glass and leaving them to their business. She pursed her lips as she lifted the tumbler up to inspect it.

"Fancy." She murmured, and for a moment, Coulson thought...

He shook his head.

"Here," He requested her glass, and her fingers brushed against his as she handed it over, allowing him to pour her a bit of bourbon. "These kind of cubes keep your drink from becoming diluted," He thought to explain, figuring by her comment that she'd never used steel ice before.

"I like it. I hope they don't cost extra." She laughed a little, and he found himself almost smiling as well. "Just a little Jim for me. I'll stick to my beer for now, let the bourbon cool down a bit."

"Smart," He nodded, approving, as he poured himself another couple ounces and screwing the cap back on the bottle. He'd had enough by now that he didn't care too much about the temperature of his own drink.

They drank together in silence for a few minutes, her occasionally singing under her breath until the song was finished.

"Have you heard these guys before?" She asked him, as the band was taking a short break before they prepared the next song. Coulson shook his head, turning a little to lean against the wall, facing her and the rest of the room. He watched the band as he answered her.

"No, this is my first time here. Are you a regular?" He'd meant that innocently enough, but she raised her eyebrow at him.

"I'm not a drunkard, if that's what you mean." She replied, with a pointed look toward the bottle of Jim Beam.

"I'm not either." He insisted, hearing how that sounded, and adding, "I've just...had a bad day. A bad year, really." He muttered that last part, but she heard it.

"It's been a bad year for a lot of people," She replied, her tone taking on a heavier quality, and he tilted his head a little as he examined her more curiously.

"What do you do?" He wondered.

"I work in the Capitol building. Glorified office assistant, really." She rolled her eyes, swallowing a large mouthful of beer. "The perks are nice, but the atmosphere... Especially lately, with all this alien crap."

"You don't believe it?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound too curious. She shrugged.

"I don't know what to believe, I just know that my bosses are being real assholes. Judgmental pricks." She scoffed under her breath, then looked at him sideways. "God, you don't work for them too, do you? Have I just gotten myself fired?" She chuckled, as if that didn't really bother her so much.

"No," Coulson smiled a little, "I don't work in politics."

"Huh," She frowned a little, looking him up and down for a moment before focusing back toward her drink. "I wouldn't have guessed." For some reason he felt a little flushed at her perusal. Maybe he needed to stop drinking, now. "You government, then?"

"What makes you say that?" He frowned, going for the insulted route. She set her glass down as she swallowed and held her hands up innocently.

"Sorry, sorry, just going by the look," She gestured one hand toward him, and he looked down at himself. He'd left his jacket in his car, but he still wore the tie and trousers.

"I'm a teacher." He admitted, lying easily. "Community college."

"Mm, I can see how that might lead to Jim Beam." She nodded, teasing, but accepting.

They talked for an hour or so, about menial things, mostly commenting on the music choices requested by the crowd. It had gone a bit downhill after the Journey song. Somehow they found themselves back on the topic of aliens, and alien movies, comparing them to real life.

"If you could pick just one thing to use as an example toward them - the aliens, to prove to them that humans aren't all that bad after all, what would you choose?" Coulson asked, sitting too close to her, too drunk, too uncaring. "Quick, first thing - "

"Freddie Mercury." She interrupted him, a little buzzed herself, but not nearly as gone as Coulson was. He blinked at her.

"Really?" He wondered, and she raised her eyebrow at him.

"Are you telling me you _wouldn't_ choose Freddie Mercury?" She pointed out, as if anything otherwise would be ridiculous.

"No, no, I just wouldn't have thought - my first thought probably would have been more along the lines of, I don't know, a big charity or something."

"PETA?" She teased, and he shrugged defensively, finishing off what was left in his glass.

"Fine, yes, let's go with Freddie." He muttered, and she smiled as she finished her glass of bourbon as well. The bottle wasn't quite empty yet, but between the two of them (mostly Coulson), they'd knocked down a lot of it.

"You're jealous because you wish you'd come up with Freddie," She poked his shoulder, leaning into him, and he couldn't help but smile in reaction to the big grin on her face. She really was rather pretty, and fun to talk to. She reminded him, just a little bit, of...

"Can I see you again?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him for a moment, leaning her head to the side as if he had surprised her.

"I don't know..." She trailed off, averting her eyes. "You aren't going to ask me to come home with you tonight?" She sounded more curious than wanting, though a little flirty.

"Do you want me to?" He replied, flirting back, and she smiled again but tried to hide it from him.

"Maybe not tonight." She sighed. "I don't really do one-night stands."

"I don't either." He told her, and she looked at him again, and suddenly he felt like she was _seeing_ him; seeing into his soul.

"I would suggest maybe next time, but, I don't think we're going to see each other again." Her gaze was soft, and honest, and Coulson found himself nodding in agreement.

"You're probably right," He admitted unfortunately, and her smile widened as she rested her palm against his chest, near his shoulder.

"Thank you for keeping me company." She told him sincerely, and he nodded, and she leaned forward and kissed him very gently.

He closed his eyes, savoring it, because it was simple and there weren't any strings attached and it made him feel like he wasn't so alone after all.

"Thank you." He returned when they parted, and she brushed her thumb against his shirt before allowing her hand to slip away as she got to her feet. "Would you like me to wait with you for the cab?" He wondered, frowning a little. It was late and she was beautiful and this area of town wasn't exactly the safest.

"It's alright, I know my way around," She smiled as if she found his suggestion adorable and unnecessary, as if maybe _she_ was supposed to be the one accompanying _him_ to a cab.

He watched her as she exited the bar, and he thought about the warmth of her company as he paid for their drinks.

They'd never even shared their names.

**~~~~**

Three days after his evening spent at the bar, he was cooking himself dinner in his apartment when he received a phone call to the landline. Surprised, because very few people had that number, he answered it assuming that it was May calling him.

He put it on speaker and set it on the island counter behind him as he worked at the stove.

"May? Checking up on me? I'm not getting roaringly drunk tonight, if he's asking." Coulson called out over his shoulder, thinking of the phone call he'd received in his hungover state the other day. May had been observing him that night at the bar and hadn't been very pleased with him. Neither had The Director, apparently, but _they_ were the ones who insisted he take a break. What did it matter what he did with his personal time?

"If who's asking?" The female voice wondered. "Why would May be checking up on you? Does this have something to do why you've been staying in your apartment lately?"

"Shit," Coulson hissed, scrambling for the phone and taking it off of speaker, tucking it into his shoulder. "Daisy?" He whispered carefully, and he heard her snort.

"Yeah, it's me, and if you're worried about the bugs they may or may not have put in your place, don't. I've checked. You're clean."

"You've been in my apartment?!" Coulson wondered incredulously, looking around, as if she would pop around the corner at any moment.

"Of course I have. I wanted to make sure everything was alright."

"When?" He wondered, eyes wide as he tried to recall anything out of place or any feeling of suspicion over the past week.

"A couple days ago." She replied, as if it were nothing. _While he'd been out at the bar, talking to someone who'd reminded him too much of her._ "So why are you there? Does this have anything to do with what I've been hearing about a new Director? What the hell is that about?"

Coulson sighed, turning the heat down on the stove and pinching the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to talk about this, especially with her.

"The President wants SHIELD out of the shadows again. And most of the world still thinks I'm dead, so, I can't be the Director anymore."

"That's _lame_." Daisy commented strongly, and Coulson shrugged, realizing that he wasn't all that bothered by it.

"I guess I have a bit more freedom as an Agent." He muttered, using a spatula to check the sear on his salmon.

"Freedom for what? Now you're not your own boss anymore."

"I mean, we're talking right now, aren't we?" Coulson pointed out, and she was silent for a beat.

"He took you off of my search team, didn't he," Daisy said knowingly, and Coulson frowned as he plated his fish and stirred up the vegetables a little. They weren't quite finished cooking yet.

"He gave me _mandatory vacation time_." Coulson sneered, as if that were the worst thing in the world, and Daisy barked out a laugh in surprise, but it wasn't one of much humor.

"Is he trying to get rid of you?" She asked, and she sounded really worried about that.

"I don't know." Coulson sighed again.

"You sound like you don't care," Daisy noticed, concerned.

"I guess I don't." She wasn't the one he was frustrated with, so why did he sound so argumentative? He turned off the stove completely and tilted the pan of vegetables onto his plate next to the fish. "They don't trust me, Daisy. Even Mack thinks I've lost it."

" _Make them_ trust you, Coulson." Daisy said urgently, toeing the line of downright ordering him. "I _need you_ in there."

"You know Mack and May are rooting for you; they're going to do anything they can to bring you in safely,"

"They're not you!" Daisy insisted. "I love May, and Mack, and the whole team - but _you're the only one I trust_. You have to get them to believe you again. I need you on the inside."

"The Director is never going to believe me if I don't actively attempt to bring you in. Knowing what they're doing... I _can't_ do that to you, Daisy."

"I can take care of myself, Phil. SHIELD hasn't even gotten close." She reminded him, a little coldly, and he sat in front of his plate, holding the phone against his ear and staring at his food without touching it.

"I wasn't even really trying that hard,"

"Yes you were, Phil, and you and I know it." Daisy interrupted. "Stop being an idiot. Take your break, get yourself together, and get back to work." She softened her tone and added, "You do need a break. You've been looking pretty rough lately."

"Thanks." He muttered sarcastically, stabbing his fork into a few pieces of carrot and broccoli. "So you've been keeping an eye on me, but I've been coming up empty on our manhunt for you. If you're so good and I've been trying my best, how the hell are they going to believe that I'm actually looking for you?"

"I'll give you some goodies every now and then," Daisy promised, and why did that sound vaguely flirty? Coulson raised his eyebrow. "Coulson, your voice is still one of the most influential within SHIELD, regardless of who the new Director is. I trust that you can keep things...calm...on the Indexing front."

"So did you just call me to kick my ass into gear?" He wondered, finally starting to eat.

"Maybe I wanted to make sure you weren't getting roaringly drunk tonight," She replied, quoting his words.

"I, uh, that was a joke." Coulson tried.

"Was it?" She asked quietly, knowingly. He frowned.

"How long have you been keeping tabs on me?" He demanded, and her laugh sounded sad.

"Did you _seriously_ not recognize me?" She mused, and his chewing slowed as he started to piece his thoughts together.

"That - at that bar, that was you?" He asked incredulously, doing his best to recall exactly what the woman had looked like. There was no way.

"Funny what some stage make-up, a wig, and an accent will do, huh?" She told him softly, in a northern accent. His fork clattered against his plate.

"Fuck!" He blurted, appalled at himself. Even picturing it now, he _still_ couldn't see how that had been Daisy. Was he really that off of his game?

"A teacher, huh?" She teased lightly. "Not bad, on the fly. I could have believed it."

He swallowed his mouthful of food, unsure of where to begin. They'd talked for more than an hour - she had sat right next to him, drinking with him, flirting with him -

"You, you kissed me." He realized slowly. Why did she do that? It wasn't really necessary for her cover. Why had she been there in the first place? They had never talked about anything of importance; nothing about his personal life, her personal life, the Accords (directly), SHIELD, none of that.

"I need to go," She told him, still speaking quietly, not sounding all that hurried.

"Wait, Daisy," She'd kissed him and it had been _nice_. Really nice.

"I was worried about you, Coulson." She admitted, sounding like she was preparing to hang up, "And I miss you. That was... That was probably dumb, sitting with you like that." She huffed out a dry chuckle at herself.

" _Daisy_ ," Coulson leaned forward in his seat, food forgotten, "I miss you too."

"I know."

They were silent for a moment.

"You kiss really nice." She told him softly, and he took in a breath, but then he heard the dial tone.

He slowly set his phone down on the table, and blinked at his plate in front of him.

**~~~~**

Day eight of his fourteen-day "prison sentence", Coulson ordered two large pizzas, and walked down the block to buy a six-pack of beer from the corner store. He didn't bother dialing the number Daisy had called him from; he had a feeling it would end up unavailable. On a whim, though, he guessed that she was still watching him, and wondered if this would entice her to show up.

Six minutes after Coulson had paid the delivery boy and sent him on his way, there was the sound of someone at his door. He sat on his couch and waited, watching, impressed when she got it open in under a minute.

And a little appalled that she was so talented with a set of lock picks.

"Do I want to know where you got those?" He asked as she slipped the leather pouch into her pocket and shut the door quickly behind her. He knew it was her, even in the baggy hoodie she had pulled up over her head and the way she hunched her shoulders and the worn sneakers on her feet.

"Probably not," She replied, pushing the hood down and standing up straight. Coulson stared up at her, unsure what to say.

She wasn't wearing a wig or any make-up this time. Her hair was short, and dark - dyed almost black, it looked like, and it was styled in a punk 'do that made her somehow look older than she was. Or was that just her eyes, and the set of her jaw?

"Weird, right?" She smirked a little when he wouldn't stop staring, and brushed her hand through her hair. "I'm still trying to get used to it."

"Daisy," he breathed, and she strode over to sit in the recliner diagonally across from him, pointing at the pizza boxes that rested on the coffee table between the two pieces of furniture.

"Some of that's for me, right?" She asked, and he nodded mutely, swallowing and pushing the boxes a little closer to her. She turned one around and opened it, smile spreading across her face as she breathed in the freshly made pie. "God, I haven't had pizza in _forever_ ," Her tone was almost like a moan, and Coulson shifted in his seat, half out of worry and half because -

"Beer?" He asked, interrupting his own thoughts, getting to his feet quickly. She tensed, pizza held aloft, and eyed him. He tried to relax, to show her that he wasn't about to grab his Icer or call his boss.

"What kind?" She asked, taking a bite as she watched him.

"Guinness." He answered, and she smiled with closed lips as she chewed, and nodded.

"You lured me in," She jokingly complained as he went to the fridge. He looked at the phone that rested in its cradle on his counter, but he didn't touch it. He grabbed a couple beers for the both of them and a bottle opener before returning to the couch. "What would you have done with all this pizza if I hadn't shown up?"

"Had leftovers," He shrugged, opening one of her beers for her before passing it over. He set the others on the table and grabbed a slice of pizza for himself before asking, "Why did you decide to show up?"

She looked at him, slowly finishing the bite that was in her mouth, and lowering the remaining half slice that was in her hand.

"It's been almost twelve months since I left SHIELD." She told him, and he nodded in agreement, having kept track himself. "It's been even longer since you and I have really talked." He was silent for a beat as he acknowledged that.

"Unless you count the bar last week," He pointed out, a bit dryly, still annoyed about that.

"I don't." She shook her head, looking down at her slice of pizza and picking off one of the pepperonis. She ate it first before adding, "That was nice, but, you didn't know it was me."

"I wish I had known." He told her honestly. "I would have..."

"Would have what?" She prodded. "Not kissed me?" He didn't say anything. "Do you make it a habit of kissing strange women in bars?" She asked curiously, and Coulson ducked his head, taking a bite of pizza and swallowing it before replying to her.

"I would have asked you if you wanted to join me for some pizza in my apartment," He finally said, carefully, looking at her a little sideways, unsure of how she would take his statement. She snorted, laughing quietly in embarrassment, focusing on her pizza again.

"It was just a little kiss, Coulson," She said flippantly, trying to throw it away like it meant nothing.

"But it was nice." Coulson said quickly, and she looked up at him. "Like you said before. It was nice." She smiled carefully, and he returned a smile hesitantly, and she leaned back in the recliner as she took another bite of her pizza.

They both ate two slices, and finished a bottle and a half of beer each, before they broached the topic again.

And by broaching the topic, it was more like Daisy standing up and taking his bottle out of his hand, putting it on the coffee table, pushing his shoulders back against the couch and kissing him when he lifted his chin to look up at her.

His hands met with her hips and urged her down, steadying her as she straddled his legs. She wrapped her arms around behind his neck, keeping her lips gentle on his, until he slid his hands up her back and pulled her closer against him. He opened his mouth under hers and then he got a little lost, in her lips and her tongue and her hands in his hair and her weight on top of him.

She licked at the roof of his mouth until he moaned, only pulling away when she needed to catch her breath. He stared up at her, a complete mess underneath her, and she brushed her thumbs against his cheeks, scraping her nails gently against the scruff on his jaw.

Her brow furrowed as she gazed at him, taking in his exhausted face; the dark circles under his eyes, the stress lines on his forehead, the length of his beard. He realized her eyes were starting to look a little tearful, and he wrapped his arms more firmly around her back, pulling her closer again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," He soothed, swallowing as he tried to calm his heartbeat. She tucked her face against his neck, shifting her legs, and together they laid along the couch as she finally let out everything she'd been holding back. She slid her arms around his middle as well, clutching him as close as possible, hot tears against his shirt as she silently cried.

He wasn't sure what else to say, so he just held her, stroking his fingers through her hair, his other arm wrapped around her firmly. He didn't know how much time past before her shoulders stopped shaking, but he continued to press his fingers through her hair comfortingly, kissing her forehead gently.

"God, Coulson, I used to work alone all the time before, but now," She whispered, swallowing when her voice choked. "It's so hard."

"You are no less of a person to admit that something is difficult," He told her seriously, tilting his head away just far enough so he could look her in the eye. "Daisy, what you're doing - damn, I wouldn't expect anyone to try that alone. The fact that you are, and you're succeeding,"

"But I'm not. I fail all the time, Coulson. When I'm helping one person, there are three more that the ATCU is picking up and hiding in whatever facility they have now."

"You're just one person, Daisy," Coulson reminded her carefully, "you can't expect to be able to save everyone."

"But I _want_ to," she muttered, and he wiped away fresh tears with the pad of his thumb. She leaned into his touch, and closed her eyes. "I know I have to be logical about this, but sometimes...sometimes I just want to _scream_."

"You're only human," He said, and then winced. She opened her eyes and looked at him like he was ridiculous. "You're, partly human," He shrugged apologetically, and she sent him a wavering smile. He brushed her hair back; it wasn't long enough to really be in her face, but her smile warmed at the gesture nonetheless. "Maybe you're in need of a break, too."

"I don't deserve a break." She muttered, tilting her head down to avoid his eyes, and he frowned.

"Daisy, what you don't _deserve_ is all the _shit_ that has happened to you." He told her emphatically. "I know that you don't believe this and it won't help but _none of this is your fault_." She looked up at him again, maneuvering her hand between them so she could touch her fingers against the side of his face.

"It helps that you believe it." She admitted, sliding her thumb along his chin. "Kiss me again," she requested.

"Daisy, I want you to- "

"Kissing you makes me feel happy." She insisted, and his expression softened.

"Kissing you makes me feel happy, too." He replied gently, and she leaned her head closer to his, waiting for him to close the gap. He did, moving his lips with hers carefully, slowly, kissing her again and again and again until she eventually relaxed completely, dozing off.

He watched her sleep for a long time before falling asleep himself, body still curled protectively around hers.

**~~~~**

He woke up with the ghost of her lips on his, one of the boxes of pizza gone, the empty bottles of beer tossed in the trash. She hadn't left a note, but he understood.

Day ten he asked May how things were going on the base. She was suspicious, but truthful, and warned him that he wasn't going to get out of the full fourteen-day "sentence" he'd been given. Coulson acknowledged that, knowing that it would take more than one phone call to get her to believe that he was back on his feet again.

He worried a little about Daisy, having not heard anything from her directly or from any media source in more than twenty-four hours at this point, but a trip to the local coffee shop appeased him. On the front page of the newspaper, the headline boasted a Quake sighting the previous day, this writer leaning more towards the "hero" aspect and less the "vigilante". Apparently she'd saved a young family from an apartment fire.

"Mike would be proud," Coulson murmured to himself as he smiled at the article, sipping his hot coffee.

"He is," Daisy slid into the seat across from him, and Coulson spluttered, quickly setting the cup down before he spilled more coffee everywhere. Unfazed, Daisy tossed a few napkins toward him so he could clean up the splatters of coffee from the paper.

"What are you doing?" Coulson hissed quietly, staring at her only for a moment before sopping up his mess. Her eyes were on the window, watching the people milling about the sidewalk outside.

"I can't stay long," She told him, all rush and on-duty and this-is-important, eyeing him quickly as he pressed the napkin against his mouth. "I've got a lead on a Watchdog group but I've got other things to deal with. They should be taken care of as soon as possible."

Coulson nodded, shifting in his seat as he put himself in mission-mode as well.

"Check out the classifieds, fourth article down." She gestured with her chin toward the paper, and then returned her gaze outside. Coulson pursed his lips but then did as she asked, folding the paper back so he could read without taking up all the space on the table. He saw out of the corner of his eye as she grabbed his coffee and sipped some of it, but he didn't say anything. Her familiarity was... Pleasing.

"The advertisement for the sixty-two Corvette?" Coulson mused dryly, raising his eyebrow high. She matched his expression over the edge of his coffee cup, amusement glittering in her eyes.

"You're great at puzzles, right?" She teased, setting his coffee back down and putting her hands on the table as she got to her feet.

"Wait," He reached over and set his hand over hers, making her pause. "Am I going to see you again? Before I head back to work, I mean?"

She looked down at him, appraising, and he tried not to squirm under her gaze. He wasn't sounding too desperate, was he?

"You were there when I needed you." She told him, sounding extremely thankful. The corner of her mouth twitched when she continued, "Do you need me?"

"I...need?" He replied haltingly, before gathering himself. He slowly slid his fingers along the outside edge of her palm, adding and nodding along, "I might."

She smirked down at him, tongue touching her bottom lip before she pulled her lip between her teeth, fighting off the smirk.

"Fourteen, right?" She stood fully and pulled her hand out from under his. "Thirteen." She promised, and left just as silently as she had appeared, before he could say anything else.

He blinked, mouthing her words again before understanding what she'd said, and then looked back down at the newspaper. The phone number given in the ad was not a phone number but a set of coordinates, and Coulson bet that they led to a Watchdog hideout.

He smiled to himself as he pulled out his phone, looking at the stain of lipstick on the mouth of his coffee cup.

**~~~~**

Day eleven he staked out the place, confirming Daisy's lead. It was a large warehouse with a helicopter pad on the roof, information that would be useful for May and whichever tact team they decided to send in.

Day twelve Coulson called it in, provided all the information he had spent the previous day figuring out, and agreed to meet May at the location once the raid had been successful.

As the other agents were filing the surviving bad guys into the two QuinJets, May stood in front of Coulson with her arms folded and a frown on her face.

"You were supposed to be taking a break," She chided him, and he shrugged, stuffing his hands inside his pockets.

He'd shaved the day before, so he would look a little more put together before May saw him. He knew that would help her observation that he had gotten his shit back together, at least a little bit.

"I was taking a break, I swear," He insisted. "I just happened to pick up on this lead, and I called it in. At least I didn't try to join the op, right?" May stared at him suspiciously.

"Where did this lead come from?" She asked slowly.

"Something I overheard in a coffeeshop." He replied, grateful that his sunglasses hid his eyes from her piercing gaze.

"Uh-huh."

"Agent May? We're ready to go." One of the agents walked up, and she nodded toward him, turning to watch the other QuinJet as it headed back to base. The agent headed back toward the grounded plane, and May turned back toward Coulson.

"Two more days, Coulson. Stop listening in on people in coffee shops." May told him dryly, and he nodded with mock seriousness. "I swear to God if you salute me right now I will tell The Director that you need another week."

Coulson was actually tempted by that, but, he couldn't be sure that Daisy had any more free time other than the day she'd already promised him. So he kept his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrows in innocence. May rolled her eyes and shook her head, stepping around him and heading into the QuinJet.

Coulson watched them take off before walking back to his car. He had some shopping to do before tomorrow.

**~~~~**

Day thirteen, the day Daisy told him she would see him one more time before their schedules became more difficult. She seemed to have meant it in the literal sense, because at one a.m. that morning he woke up to find her slipping into his bed.

"If you keep breaking in here like this I may accidentally shoot you," He mumbled, still half asleep, as she pulled the sheet over her and snuggled up against him, their arms immediately curling around each other as if they slept with one another every night.

"No you won't," She laughed, nuzzling him before sighing. "Go back to sleep."

He wasn't even fully awake, so falling back asleep came easy to him. He only slept for another few hours, though, because he woke up to use the restroom, and when he returned he remembered that Daisy was in his bed and he didn't want to sleep through another moment of that.

He settled himself against his pillows, laying on his side so he could watch her.

"Coulson," She murmured a minute later, making him flinch. He hadn't known she was awake. "Stop staring."

"I'm not." He lied, scooting down a little so their faces were in line with one another. She squinted her eyes open. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You stare so loudly." She complained, groaning a little and stretching. "What time is it?"

"Four-thirty," Coulson answered, having glanced at the clock on his way to the bathroom. She groaned again, a bit louder this time, and threw her arm across her eyes.

"Too early to be awake yet. Sleep in." She mumbled, reaching for the front his tee and pulling. He shifted closer to her, his nose brushing hers, and she opened her eyes again.

"I don't want to sleep." He whispered, looking at her, and her grip on his shirt loosened, her fingers splaying out against his chest. Her hand was warm over the thumping of his heart, and she smiled at him; that small smile that seemed to show more in her eyes than on her mouth.

"You sure do make a habit out of watching me sleep," She mused, blinking sleepily. He smiled warmly at her, blushing slightly.

"I like watching you sleep." He admitted. She snorted, and his smile widened. She was embarrassed by the sound, but he thought it was adorable.

"Creep." She teased, tilting her head to brush her nose against his again.

"I don't mean to be creepy," He pouted a little, and she slid her hand up and around to the back of his neck.

"Because it's you, it isn't," She promised him, pressing her fingers against his nape. He closed his eyes, his lips parting slightly as she relieved some of the tension in his neck. She made a humming noise and shifted, causing him to open his eyes again. "Lie on your stomach," She suggested, moving back to give him the space to do so. He did, folding his arms beneath his head so he could lie face-down without suffocating himself in the sheets.

Her hands immediately returned to the back of his neck, gentle at first as she felt out the shape of his spine so she could avoid putting direct pressure on his bones. He seemed to have a lot of knots in his neck and shoulders, especially in the trapezius muscles.

"New Director stressing you out?" She murmured, pressing her fingers with more pressure into the muscle.

"That's a mild way to put it," He replied dryly, trying to relax under her. It was still so new, Daisy touching him, and now she was pulling up to the collar of his tee to slip her hand beneath, using the warmth of her skin against his to help soften up the muscle there. She sat cross-legged next to him, her legs pressed against his side so she was close enough to reach both of his shoulders comfortably.

"Breathe in for me, and breathe out when I push, okay?" She requested, and his back rose as he did as she asked. Placing the meaty part of her thumb directly over one of the larger knots she found, she stacked her hands and then sat up slightly on her knees, pushing down on the muscle with the help of her body weight. Coulson released his breath, along with a groan that made her smile, pleased that it was working.

"Oh, that is fantastic," he sighed, and she worked out the smaller knots before moving to his other shoulder, and repeating the process. She then pressed the pads of her fingers just beneath his hairline, dragging them firmly down and out across his shoulders. "That feels good," she could hear the smile in his voice, so she continued working on his back, sections at a time, until he was practically a puddle beneath her hands.

Pressing her thumbs into the small of his back, he flinched, hips pressing into the mattress, and he turned his head to muffle his moan into the sheets. She hesitated, noticing anyway the different timbre of the sound, but then continued working out the knots in his back. His left side seemed slightly more tense than his right, probably from compensating with the injury to his right leg. She made a noise of frustration under her breath, beating herself up for the fact that it had been her fault.

"Don't," Coulson said, between clenched teeth, knowing why she made the noise. "It wasn't you."

"Coulson..." She sighed, not bothering to argue with him any more than that. They've argued about this countless times already, before she had left SHIELD. She continued working out the muscle until he relaxed again, then slid her hands up underneath the end of his shirt, using the warmth from her hands again to soothe him. "Hm," She mused, pressing her hands flat against the small of his back. He was more muscularly toned than she'd imagined.

She shifted to straddle his legs, settling atop the backs of his thighs carefully, making it much easier to reach his entire back now.

"Daisy," he breathed, and she slid her hands all the way up is back, skin on skin, fingers ghosting over his scar without a flinch or hesitation before maneuvering back down along the curve of his spine. He moaned again, that low sound deep within his chest, and she pushed her thumbs beneath the waistband of his shorts for a quick moment.

"How have I never noticed this butt before?" She wondered, her hands over top his shorts just as lightly as she'd touched his scar. He squirmed a little beneath her, and she squeezed his ass gently, experimentally.

" _Daisy_ ," He sounded surprised, but he also sounded wanting, so she squeezed his ass again more firmly. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, twisting in an effort to face her, and she lifted herself up so he could turn onto his back underneath her.

"How's your leg?" She asked softly as she sat back down on his thighs, and his hands immediately curled around her waist.

"It's fine," he promised, sitting up so he could kiss her. She was surprised by his intensity, but less so when she realized the extent of the bulge in his shorts.

She smiled against his mouth as he fell back onto the mattress, pulling her with him.

**~~~~**

Day fourteen, May knocked on his door. He let her in with an amused expression, a small towel thrown over his shoulder.

"Spring cleaning?" May asked, unabashedly scoping out the place as she walked into the living room.

"Something like that," Coulson replied, locking the door behind her. He noticed her glance through the open door to his bedroom, and pursed his lips at the wildly unmade bed. He started picturing why his bed wasn't made, and turned toward the kitchen before May saw the look on his face.

They were too good of friends for her not to take one look at him and know, if he kept thinking about it. He needed to focus on other things for the moment. Like cleaning the kitchen.

"I haven't really cleaned much since I've been here. There's still dust everywhere." Coulson explained as he wiped down the counters.

"I see you've been indulging in your junk food habit." May commented, leaning against the corner of the wall, folding her arms across her chest casually. His trash can was full with the pizza box, Chinese takeout containers, and beer bottles. And maybe a few Little Debbie wrappers too, but it wasn't like it was all just from him... Not that he would ever tell May that, though.

"That's what people do on vacation, right? Indulge?" Coulson returned, frowning as he had to put a little more elbow grease into scraping something off of the stove.

"Indulge. Yes." May trailed off slightly, and Coulson looked up at her. She was looking sideways back toward his bedroom again, her brow furrowed as she tried to piece things together.

Coulson was fairly confident that she would find no trace of Daisy here. He'd even left his "Quake Board", as Mack called it, back in his office two weeks ago. Still, though, this was May, and she had a way of pulling the truth out of thin air.

"Are you here to interview me and deem me fit to return to duty?" Coulson asked, congenially enough.

"You and I have been doing this for almost half of our lives, now. You would know. Are you fit for duty?" May asked him, her gaze catching his cane resting against the back of the couch as she looked toward him. He inwardly winced, knowing that would be an issue. She didn't like that he was still taking such heavy pain meds, and the fact that he had his cane out again didn't look good.

"I just did a little too much, the other day. Going up and down a ladder most of the day cleaning out these cabinets." Coulson waved his hand in the air, shrugging off the concern. That hadn't _exactly_ been the reason why his leg was sore today, but he wasn't going to tell her the truth.

The pain was totally worth it, though.

"I feel better, May." He finally answered her question, setting the towel onto the counter and leaning his elbow down on it, giving her his full attention. "More focused. Settled." May nodded, relaxing, looking pleased by his answer.

"You do know that I agree with you, Phil." She told him softy. "About Daisy. I can't argue against The Director's concern for other dangerous Inhumans, but I do agree that his methods are," she frowned, "extreme."

"Extreme." Coulson repeated, scoffing.

"You and I both know that Daisy will return when she feels ready to."

"If she feels ready to," Coulson corrected, disappointed. He understood what Daisy was doing, but he couldn't help missing her.

"You got a little crazy there, Phil," May raised her eyebrow at him, "off the reservation. You need to at least _pretend_ to agree with The Director, if you want to keep your access to SHIELD resources."

Coulson narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if this was a test.

"Are you... Suggesting I _help_ Daisy?" He asked carefully, making sure he didn't sound hopeful about the idea. May gave him a look like she was tired of his obtuseness.

"As if you haven't been?" She laughed shortly, and he gave her a surprised look.

"I haven't!" He insisted. As he has always been insisting.

"You have got to stop trying to lie to me about your bias for her, Phil." May sighed. "Do you think I just ignored the fact that someone broke into your apartment last week?" She demanded, and Coulson's eyes widened slightly. "The fact that they didn't immediately leave, and there were no sounds of a struggle, and you never called the cops, or backup - that was Daisy." May stood straight, staring him down. "You _know_ that I've been keeping an eye on you. She stayed the entire night. You expect me to believe that you two just shared some pizza and what, watched a movie?" She shook her head. "Was that when she gave you the tip on the Watchdogs? What did you trade for that information?"

"Okay, okay," Coulson stood up straight as well, holding his hands out in front of him. "I will admit that the Watchdog tip came from her, but that _did_ happen at a coffeeshop. It was in the newspaper. She'd left it in a personal ad." If he could manage to make May believe they had only seen one another face-to-face that one time, he was probably in the clear. "I checked it out myself first before calling it in, because there was no detailed information about the place at all. I wanted to make sure you guys weren't going in blind."

"Well, that's appreciated." May replied wryly, frowning at him. "So you _were_ working when you weren't supposed to be. So, what, did you tell her something about SHIELD and she waited a few days to figure out what exactly she wanted to tell you in return?"

"I'm telling you May, I didn't tell Daisy anything about SHIELD that she doesn't already know." He muttered the last part, and May paused for a few moments.

"Does she know about the new Director?" May asked, and Coulson nodded.

"She watches the news, May." Coulson rolled his eyes, and May narrowed her dangerously. Coulson sighed. "She didn't know a lot. I only told her _why_ he's the new Director. But she does already know that his primary objective is to bring in Inhumans."

"You really aren't helping her?" May wondered.

"No, May. The best way I can help her is to... Stay within SHIELD." That was the truth.

"If I tell the Director that you can return to the Quake operation, I won't regret it, right? You'll _actually_ start trying to catch her?" May checked, and he nodded. "She's one of us, Coulson. You're right about one thing - we do look after our own." May promised him.

"You know she's not going to fall in line under his command. She's not going to rely on someone else constantly telling her when and how she can use her powers."

"In time he may learn to trust her judgement, Phil. Not everyone is you; as immediately and unfailingly trusting of Daisy like you are. I care about her, but she's not infallible." May tilted her head to the side a bit as she examined him. "Even you weren't so immediately trusting, before her."

"So what do we do if she does give me another tip?" Coulson returned, ignoring her statement.

"We check it out. And we're honest about where the tip came from - if it's good, it's good." May shrugged. "He probably wouldn't be happy about it but it would be worse if we tell him it was anonymous and then he finds out it was Daisy." Coulson nodded, and after a beat he gestured toward his fridge.

"Want a beer?" He asked, and May shook her head.

"I need to head back." She softened her expression. "I'll talk to the Director. Come back tomorrow, okay? Just make sure you keep taking care of yourself." She hesitated in the living room, looking directly toward his bedroom now. "Phil... She's not here right now, is she?" May asked him quietly.

"May," Coulson warned, sighing. "Where the hell do you think she would be? Hiding in my closet?"

"You worry about her more than you do about yourself," May faced him again, "that concerns me. A certain degree of selfishness is necessary to survive in this job, Coulson. No, it would not surprise me in the least if you were helping her hide out in your own apartment." Coulson frowned at her, insulted that she would think he or Daisy would be so stupid to do something that obvious. "I know you're not an idiot," May waved her hand dismissively in the air, "and yet, with her, sometimes you are."

Coulson rolled his eyes, and May stared at him for a moment.

"You _are_ an idiot when it comes to her," May repeated slowly, frowning again, and Coulson opened his mouth, but May turned around and walked toward the bedroom.

Coulson quickly followed, nothing to do but watch as May opened his closet door first, and then the bathroom door. He sighed as he heard her open the shower curtain as well, and then she reappeared in the bedroom, now looking just slightly apologetic. She looked sideways, down at the bed for a moment, and he wondered why she kept staring at it. It was just messy, right? That didn't always immediately lead to "somebody had sex here recently!"

"I'm glad you're sleeping again." May told him softly, smiling a bit, resting her hand on his shoulder before slipping around him and leaving the apartment.

He didn't release his breath until he heard the door shut behind her.

"She is right, you know," Daisy flipped the heavy comforter off of her, climbing out from under the pile of covers on his bed. "About how you are when it comes to me."

"She didn't say anything." Coulson wondered worryingly, looking toward the doorway, half expecting May to come back in with Mack or other agents in tow.

"She didn't see me." Daisy shrugged, scooting to the end of the bed.

"She was standing right here," Coulson pointed out, gesturing beside him. "This is Melinda May we're talking about."

"And she did seem like she was open to the idea of working with me, at least partially. Maybe she's giving me a chance." Daisy told him, reaching forward and curving her fingers into the waistband of his trousers, yanking him closer.

"I don't know," Coulson frowned, preoccupied as he considered the types of conversations May was going to have with him once he returned to base.

"I should leave, soon, regardless," Daisy told him softly, and he immediately focused back toward her, realizing she still had her fingers hooked into his trousers.

"I wish you didn't have to." He admitted, brushing his fingers carefully through her hair. He really liked it. He hadn't told her that yet.

"I mean," She mused, slowly dropping her gaze down his body, "I might have a little time." She trailed her fingers to the button of his trousers, waiting there, and Coulson swallowed hard as he looked down at her.

"Not _that_ much time," He told her, dismayed by that, and she smirked at him as she popped open the button anyway, slowly pulling down his zipper.

"Wanna bet?" She challenged, using both hands now as she opened his trousers and pushed them out of the way just enough.

His breathing quickly became more measured as she touched him through his briefs, and he slid his fingers through her hair again.

**~~~~**

"I can't believe that just happened." Daisy admitted, surprise all over her face, as she and Coulson walked side by side down the hallway.

"I told you he would come around," Coulson grinned, nudging her with his shoulder. "Now if we can get the rest of the world to do the same, he won't have to keep looking like The Big Bad Inhuman Wrangler for the public."

"I mean, I'm a _little_ disappointed that I have to give up Goth Daisy. I kind of had fun with that."

"I'm sure we could find a reason for Goth Daisy every now and then," Coulson teased, and she laughed.

"Undercover? God, I would _pay money_ to see you wear eyeliner."

"Well lucky for you that I happen to be in a relationship with someone who owns a lot of eyeliner." Coulson teased quietly, and Daisy stared at him.

"What." She blurted. He blinked innocently.

"I mean, I don't know if I would do it with nothing in return, but, I might let you do my makeup one day." Coulson replied, walking on as if they were talking about the weather. Daisy's feet had stopped, and she stared after him with her mouth opened in shock.

When he kept on walking, she jogged to catch up with him.

"I get to paint your nails too, right?" She asked quickly, and he raised his eyebrow at her in an extremely flirty manner.

"That'll cost you extra."

She grinned slowly, widely, and Coulson smiled back. He liked it when he could make her smile like that.

He led her into the garage, toward one of the SUV's, and she frowned a little.

"Are we going for a ride?" She wondered, and he opened the back door, gesturing for her to climb in.

"Get in," He asked, and her frown deepened but she did as asked, and then had to keep scooting over when she realized he was climbing in after her.

"What are you doing?" She asked, slightly amused. He shut the door, and they sat in the silence of the vehicle for a moment more before he spoke.

"Do you remember one of the first days we met, you and I sat in the back of one of these SUV's, and you called me AC. You told me I was cool." Coulson recalled, and Daisy laughed with embarrassment.

"You remember that?"

"Of course I do." Coulson looked at her. "Daisy, that was...not long after I'd returned to SHIELD after Tahiti - well, what we now know wasn't exactly a vacation after all, but - you..." He pursed his lips as he formulated his words. "I was having a crisis of self. Even before everything, I - I knew something wasn't quite right. I didn't feel right. And you helped me figure out who I am. You're still helping me."

Daisy's expression softened, and she reached over to place her hand atop where his rested on the seat cushion between them.

"I want you to know, that these guys don't define you. The Director, the Watchdogs, Talbot, the UN, nobody. You've changed, Daisy, but you're still _Daisy_. You're still..." He trailed off as he looked at her, jaw working as he lost the words he wanted.

"The most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Daisy teased gently, and he blushed.

"The thing is, I want to help you. I want to help you like you've helped me, but I don't want you to define yourself because of what other people say." He looked frustrated with himself, and she slid closer to him, sliding her hand up to his cheek.

"You have helped me, Coulson." She promised him. "That story you told me about the Corvette; I think about that all the time. When I was out there, and people were writing things about me being a menace, and I kept remembering the things that Hive told me ... I just thought about your story about the Corvette. It took a long time for me to accept it, to believe it for myself, to even believe that _you_ meant it, but... I know who I am, Coulson."

"Of course I meant it." Coulson told her softly, and she laughed a little as she brushed her thumb against his jaw.

"I know you meant it." She smiled at him, then leaned in and kissed him. When they parted, and she settled back against the seat, he slid his fingers slowly along her forearm.

"I also have another reason for calling this meeting here today," He started formally, and she turned her head toward him, giving him a coy look at his tone. "I remember, a few months ago, that I made you a promise. To return a...gift, that you've given me."

"Oh my God," Daisy snorted, " _here_?" He smirked a little, and she pulled her arm away from his hand. "We can't _here_ , we'll get caught!"

Coulson twisted a little, leaning into her as he reached behind him to blindly lock the car doors.

"I'd better be quick, then, huh?" He mused, kissing her deeply with an open mouth and all tongue.

"Mm," She moaned, gasping for air when he moved his lips down her neck, "you know it's not fair when you kiss like _that_ ,"

* * *

 


End file.
